Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Laos and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Angry Samoans to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Smiths,
Au Pairs,
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
The New Christs,
Jandek,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Slits,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Schoolly D,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dennis Brown,
The Tremeloes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bill Near,
Darondo,
Yellowson,
World's Most,
Black Moon,
Groovy Waters,
JFA,
Pagans,
The Sound,
James Chance & The Contortions,
It's A Beautiful Day,
48th St. Collective,
Eden Ahbez,
Visage,
Fatback Band,
Surgeon,
Terry Callier,
Ituana,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Pretty Things,
Massinfluence,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
AZ,
Joey Negro,
Eric B and Rakim,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mandrill,
Con Funk Shun,
Ornette Coleman,
Joyce Sims,
Graham Central Station,
Reagan Youth,
Lalo Schifrin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ludus,
Skarface,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Symarip,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
E-Dancer,
Adolescents,
Marc Almond,
These Immortal Souls,
Hoover,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.